Time After Time
by sifuamelia
Summary: A Christmas fic, just in time for the holidays! Crack detectives Dawn Jenness and Barry McGonnigal are hired to break up a mysterious crime ring that has left the rest of Sinnoh stumped. Meanwhile, each has their own special Christmas wish. Takes place after the two have beat the Pokemon League, but Team Galactic is still a threat. Rated for mild violence, language, and romance.
1. The second hand unwinds

**Author's note: **This is a Christmas fic which I'll hopefully complete before said holiday arrives. It's not replacing _Whisper, Whisper_, which is my main fic – I'm currently putting that on hold till winter break, when I'll have more consistent time to write it. Basically, this one will be way shorter (probably around ten chapters). And yes, the chapter titles are lyrics from the song _Time After Time_.

Dawn is only similar to the anime/game character in design and concept. Same with Barry. Of course, that means I'll be taking a lot of creative liberties. Unlike _Whisper_, which strictly follows the Hoenn game storyline, this story doesn't follow the Diamond/Pearl/Platinum storyline in the slightest.

The Bourgeoir family is a reference to the Riches of Undella Town in Black/White.

Happy reading!

**One**

**The second hand unwinds**

It was exactly ten days before Christmas when the Bourgeoir break-in occurred.

"What a load of holiday cheer," Barry grumbled after slamming the phone back down into the receiver.

Dawn looked up from the latest issue of _The Sinnoh Regular_. _Mars Behind Bars!_ the front page caption blared, crowning the standard portrait of Jennifer Starr, commander of the entire country's police force, with a hand resting upon her Arcanine's shoulder. _Our Beloved Officer Jenny Does it Again!_

She wrinkled her nose. Once again, the firm hadn't gotten a speck of recognition for their work.

"What happened?" she asked her partner.

He sighed and slumped into his desk chair, his normally bright tawny eyes downcast. "There's been a robbery up in Hearthome. You know the Bourgeoirs?"

"Yeah, didn't they kick start the Trainer's School in Jubilife?" She laid down the paper, becoming interested.

He nodded. "Wealthy, well-established family. Well, the point is, they want us to come check it out. They heard about our work on the Mars case."

Dawn snorted. "At least _somebody_ did." She pushed her glasses, an unfortunate recent addition, farther up her nose and critically examined the Christmas tree standing tall and proud in the corner of their Sandgem office. Pine needles littered the Berber carpet surrounding it, and the strings of white lights encircling its branches seem more gaudy than festive.

"People always get desperate around the holidays, Dawn. It's probably just a one-time thing." Barry sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

"I hope so," she answered quietly.

_What kind of criminal could have succeeded in robbing the Bourgeoirs?_

**xXxXx**

Their childhood home in Twinleaf was dark upon her arrival. She stomped snow from her boots and pulled off her heavy, worn parka, placing the former near the door and the latter on the coat tree.

"Dawn, is that you?" The voice floated up from the overstuffed sofa behind her.

She nearly jumped out of her woolen socks. "Evie!" She rounded the back of the couch and dropped to her knees in front of her baby sister (although, at eighteen, she wasn't exactly a baby anymore). "Why are you already home? Why are the lights off?"

From beneath a veritable mountain of blankets, her sister's hand emerged and reached for hers. Once tanned and strong, it was now sickly white and clammy, with frighteningly emaciated fingers. "You're all… shaky…"

"Yeah, because you scared me shitless!"

"Sorry, I–" Evie was cut off by her own ugly hacking coughs.

"Dammit," Dawn growled. She crossed the living room towards the hallway bathroom, threw open its door, and searched frantically for the bottle of pills that old Rowan had recommended seemingly eons ago.

"They're right here, Dawn," Evie called out to her weakly.

She froze, her hand still reaching for the medicine cabinet. "How many today?"

"Five."

She drew in a violent breath. "Take another one. I'll make you some soup."

**xXxXx**

Later, after she'd led her sister to her bedroom and cleaned up the kitchen, she herself lay on the sofa, cupping a bowl of lum berry soup long gone cold. A slow fire burned in the grate in front of her, casting a ballet of flickering shadows across the room's walls.

She reached for the remote lying atop the glass-topped coffee table and flipped on the nightly news.

"And we're back with _Late Night in Jubilife_! I'm Kinsey Clearly, and I'm here with Susie Bourgeoir – yes, _the_ Susan Bourgeoir, contest queen and daughter of travel magnate Miles Bourgeoir – right in front of our very own station!" The green-clad reporter had added a pair of jaunty Stantler antlers and a glowing multi-colored necklace to her ensemble.

She thrusted the microphone into the heiress's sharply beautiful face. "Your father's mansion recently experienced a break-in, despite its state-of-the-art security system and dedicated police force! Do you have any idea of who the robbers were? And if so," she continued dramatically, "do you know what they took?"

Susie Bourgeoir regarded Kinsey coolly. "My family does not know the identity of the criminals, but rest assured, we are currently working to do everything in our power to catch up with them. As for what was taken…" Her ice-bright eyes flashed. "That's nobody's business, Miss Clearly."

"Oh, I, um…" The reporter's voice faltered. "Ah, well! Okay! I know I am speaking for all of our viewers when I say, good luck to your and your family!" She awkwardly patted her interviewee on the arm, which resulted in another cold stare.

"Eek! Um, this has been _Late Night in Jubilife_! Happy holidays, Sinnoh!" The camera cut to a quick blackness, and then a commercial came on advertising Snowpoint City's new ski resort. Dawn frowned and clicked off the TV, and the house was silent once more.


	2. Darkness has turned to gray

**Two**

**Darkness has turned to gray**

He picked both of the sisters up the next morning. Evie was headed to school; Dawn was ready to catch a crook.

"Hi, Evie."

"Nice to see you, Barry," Evie whispered around a sore throat. Dawn, sitting shotgun, pressed her face to the window, reveling in its flat coldness. The stars were only just winking out, and the sky was the kind of milky blue that promised further snow. Mount Coronet loomed over them like a tidal wave, a silent giant standing stark against the clouds, and Dawn closed her eyes against its unfeeling stability.

_How lucky it must be to be a rock._

"Dawn!" Her sister's voice cut through her reverie. "Dawn, what should we get Dad for Christmas?"

_Christmas?_ She had forgotten.

"Hmmm. Does he need any new lab equipment? A Pokétch app? I hear they made one that can quickly check type strengths and weaknesses, even the middle of a battle."

"Dad doesn't really like battling, but I think that would work pretty well for his studies with Professor Rowan."

Dawn turned around in her seat just in time to see a quiet smile settle across Evie's too thin face. "I'll run by and pick it up after school–"

"No." Dawn cut her sister off. "I'll get it. You'll wait for Cheryl to drop by, and she'll take you right home."

Evie's mouth formed a silent _O_, but she quickly closed it and turned away. Dawn did as well, looking to the road ahead.

Barry sighed loudly and made the right turn into the Trainer's School's lot. He parked at the curb, got out, and then opened up Evie's door. She collected her things and started towards the school's doors.

"Have a good day at school, Evie. I'll tell my mom to bring you by the Company Store, and then you can pick it up yourself."

"Oh, wow, thank you!" Evie stumbled back towards the car and wrapped her arms around Barry's waist. "That would be great!"

Dawn leaned back in her seat, her hands balled into fists.

**xXxXx**

"You can't do that, Barry! What were you even thinking?"

Barry's eyes were golden bullets as he concentrated on the slick road ahead. "What are _you_ even thinking, Dawn?"

Dawn sucked in a painful breath. "What's that supposed to mean–"

"You don't let her do _anything_, that's what it means!"

"Don't even go there, Barry! We both know how sick she is! The curse is killing her, she's practically dying–"

"Yeah, because you're not even giving her the chance to _live_!" The shout echoed through the car long after it had left Barry's mouth.

Dawn was stunned into silence.

"Oh, jeez. God, Dawn, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know you're doing everything you can. I'm sorry."

She spotted a rest stop lot on the edge of the road. They were passing through Floaroma, and despite the coming winter, nearly bare berry trees still stood defiantly along the country lane. "Can we just pull over for a second?"

"What–"

"Just do it, Barry."

He stopped the car, and without warning, she jumped out and paced to the edge of the grass. Her red dress coat and long white scarf whipped in the frigid wind, which flew past her and out of sight over the dead meadows.

She couldn't help it; she let out a scream that fell somewhere between tormented frustration and bitter apology.

**Seven years ago**

_"…and it looks like we'll be playing host to this cold snap for the rest of the year, isn't that right, Tevin?"_

_ "Sure looks like it, Kinsey! And now, on to the traffic! We're experiencing a back-up near Sunyshore–"_

_ With a static pop, the entire house suddenly went dark, cutting off the weatherman in his tracks._

_ Eleven year-old Evie let out a tiny squeal. "It's nighttime!" She bounced atop the couch delightedly._

_ Dawn, curled up in a ball around a book (_Modern Contest Stars: What Makes Them Successful?_) and a mug of coffee on the other cushion, couldn't help but laugh. "I'll see if we have any candles." She began to unfold herself from the soft knit blanket._

_ "I have a better idea!" Evie scrambled over the back of the couch, nearly falling flat on her face. She disappeared into the shadowy hallway beyond, and returned moments later clutching something that still shined even in the close dark._

_ Dawn touched its smooth surface wonderingly. "What's this, Evie?"_

_ "Dad brought it back from Hoenn when he and Mom went there to do research! Remember? We stayed with Palmer and Cheryl and Barry?"_

_ "I remember." She paused, a dim recollection from Trainer's School slowly floating to the forefront of her mind. "Is that a… TM?"_

_ "No! An HM! Only Gym Leaders can activate them, and Gym Leader Brawly already did that as a special gift for Daddy! For science!" Evie pulled Dawn back down to the couch. "Look, it's called Flash! It could give us light!"_

_ "Well… alright…" Something was making Dawn uneasy, and it wasn't the shifting shadows filling the halls. "Aren't we supposed to teach it to a Pok__é__mon in order to use it?"_

_ "No, remember that machine Professor Rowan invented? The one that installs TMs to observe their effects before giving them to Pokémon? Dad has one upstairs in the office! Let's go use it!"_

_ Dawn shivered, hugging herself tight. "Evie, maybe we should just wait for Dad and Mom to come home–"_

_ "Oh, but then we can't finish reading about contest hallls together, c'mon, Dawn! Please, please, PLEASE!" Evie clasped her hands tight and looked up at her big sister with adoring eyes._

_ "Ah, fine! Let's go!"_

**xXxXx**

"Are you okay?" He asked it so quietly, so hesitantly, that it made her feel even lower than she had before.

"Mmmm."

"Look, if you want to talk–"

"Let's just go, Barry." She looked over; his face was set and hard, but his eyes were sad. She swallowed past the gradually growing lump in her throat.

"I'm sorry."

She pressed her face against the window once more, just as the first snowflakes began to fall from the sky.

**xXxXx**

"Hello, Mr. Bourgeoir? My name is Dawn Jenness. I'm the head detective at the Sandgem branch–"

The impeccably dressed man stood back from the entrance to the enormous townhouse and gave them what seemed like much more than a once over. "Draco!"

A tall and slender young man appeared in the foyer. His thick, straight brown hair and sharply bright eyes reminded her of someone she already knew, although she couldn't decide who.

"This young woman–"

"Dawn Jenness, I presume?" The man stuck out his hand to shake, and although a smile was plastered on his face, he looked anything but friendly. His fingers were just as slim and cold as the rest of his appearance. "I'm Draco Bourgeoir, son of Miles Bourgeoir. My father wanted to talk with you... Unfortunately, he isn't with us at the moment."

The way that Draco said it made it sound as if he had murdered Miles.

Barry spoke up for the first time, sounding surprised. "Wait… _You're_ not Mr. Bourgeoir?" he asked in the direction of the well-dressed man.

Draco snorted. "No. Sebastian is a mere butler." Sebastian looked mildly hurt at this revelation; his crisp white moustache drooped ever so slightly.

"Come, Miss Jenness." The young man beckoned into the house with a crooked finger. "You can bring your lackey with you as well–"

"What – hey! I'm a detective, too!"

**xXxXx**

The _real_ Mr. Bourgeoir was much more… eclectic in appearance, Dawn thought. He reminded her a bit of a scarecrow, or, at least, a scarecrow with a designer suit that looked like a circus costume. His hair was as white as the snowflakes tumbling down from the sky, and his eyes were kinder than Draco's.

He was introduced as Zillion Bourgeoir, Miles's father.

"My son Miles is off on business. He's supervising the opening of that new ski resort in the north." The elderly man smiled. "I met your father once, at one of my old friend Rowan's parties. A brilliant man! He's got a mind as sharp and keen as a knife!"

"Er… thank you?"

"Much obliged, of course!" Zillion turned to Barry. "And you are?"

"Barry McGonnigal." The two men shook hands. "I'm Detective Jenness's partner–"

"Ohoho!" Zillion's bright eyes twinkled. "So _that's_ what they're calling it these days!"

Dawn's face was on fire. "No, it's not like that–"

"Of course." The old man winked, and then clapped his hands. "Now! Down to business!"

"Grandfather, would you like me to accompany you?" Draco stepped, or rather strutted, forward into the sumptuous great room. It was as if a light bulb went on in Dawn's head – no wonder the boy looked familiar. She had seen his older sister on the news the night before.

"Ah, Draco. If you must." Dawn watched Zillion's mustachioed nostrils flare ever so slightly as he tapped his cane against the floor and led them towards a grand bookcase covering one of the back walls. He reached up with his cane and lightly tapped the seventh volume to the left on the seventh shelf.

With a rumbling groan, the bookcase slowly but surely swung inwards, revealing a dripping stone passageway that sloped gradually downward into the darkness.

"Whoa…" Barry's voice trailed off, his eyes wide and huge, almost childlike. Dawn turned to look at him and couldn't help but smile. She had missed this side of him, the infectiously excitable and enthusiastic air that had always surrounded him like nothing else. Ever since the accident...

"Come!" commanded Zillion rather imperiously, just as his grandson had done before. He tapped his cane to the newly revealed stone floor, and the sharp sound echoed into the nothingness of the secret passageway. "It's time I told you about my life's work."


	3. Suitcases of memories

**Three**

**Suitcases of memories**

_ "C'mon, c'mon, C'MON!" Evie tugged at her hand insistently. "Let's go!"_

_ Dawn cautiously climbed the first stair. "Um… I think I'm going to trip."_

_ "You're being a scaredy-cat Dawn!" Her sister's hand left hers as she crawled up the carpeted staircase like a monkey. "I'm going to beat you!"_

_ "Oh, no, you aren't!" All fears dissipated in the face of competition, Dawn's longer legs easily overtook her sister's shorter ones. She thudded into their father's office door first. "I beat _you_!"_

_ "Hmph." Evie looked around, her face lit up by the pale moonlight streaming through the grand upstairs window. "It's only 'cause you're older." Her upper lip trembled slightly, but Dawn knew that it was all an act. She couldn't help but laugh._

_ "C'mere, Evie. Let's do this thing." She held her sister's arm and opened the door to the office._

_ There were no windows inside; the darkness was utterly complete. "I can't see a thing!" Dawn exclaimed with a shiver. "Can't we just grab a few flashlights or something? Oh, I know!" She turned to Evie excitedly. "Didn't Dad leave his Infernape behind? Maybe its tail fire could give us some light–"_

_ "Why do we always have to do things _your_ way?"_

_ "Ugh, fine!" Dawn threw her hands in the air. "Let's get this over with. Now what exactly–"_

_ There was a horrendous clatter as a stack of TMs rained from the sky. Or, rather, from the top of a bookshelf – apparently, Evie had accidentally bumped into it while crawling over the desk in search of their father's machine._

_ "Evie!" Dawn rushed to her sister's side and pulled her into a tight embrace. "Are you okay?"_

_ "M'fine," Evie mumbled around her sister's sweater. "I dropped the HM, though…" She gently eased herself out of the monster hug and felt around the floor for its slick surface. "I got it back!"_

_ Dawn sighed. "So where's this machine, anyway?"_

_ "It's right there." Evie pointed to the top of the desk, where something was whirring and humming quietly in the dark. Dawn tapped it experimentally; suddenly, a greenish glow filled the entire room, casting their faces in a ghostly light._

_ "It looks like a computer. See, here's a disk drive."_

_ Evie clapped her hands together. "I_ told_ you this would work." She climbed atop the desk and held the HM up to the designated slot._

_ "Ready?"_

_ Dawn wrinkled her nose. That wasn't the HM Flash – the original disk that Evie had been holding was the silvery-beige color of a Normal type object. This one was different, a deep purple that was the symbol of…_

_ "Evie, stop, I think you mixed up–"_

_ It was too late; her little sister had inserted the new disk into the machine's slot._

_ A single loud beep rang in their ears, and then a monotonous female voice filled the room. "Identified as TM Curse. Number 03."_

_ "Evie, take your hand away–!"_

_ A blinding flash lit the room, but not the one that her sister had wished for. Instead, a purple smog quickly permeated the air, drawn directly towards Evie's shocked open mouth–_

_ Dawn's shout of "No!" was lost to a sudden scream._

**Present day**

"Remember, kids, I'd appreciate if you don't tattle on me. Hearthome's zoning code doesn't exactly permit enormous underground tunnels…" The tap of Zillion's cane echoed throughout the tunnel as they walked down its gradual slope.

Barry laughed nervously.

"Where are we going?" Dawn asked, looking around and around. The walls and ceiling dripped with cold moisture, making her long for the fireplace at home, but all the same, the tunnel was actually very beautiful. The rock it was carved from sparkled all the hues of the rainbow, and from time to time, enormous purple jewels appeared from below its surface.

"Don't you know?" Draco answered imperiously. "Every wealthy family has a secret underground chamber where they store all of their riches. It's practically cliché!"

Dawn couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Of course."

"I thought that your dad was in the traveling and shipping business. Why would he need a secret underground chamber?" Barry wondered aloud.

"You're correct, Detective McGonnigal, but you must remember that while my son is employed in said industry, I am not. Or, at least, I _was_ not. I've retired, as they say." Zillion winked at Dawn.

"So, what do you do then?"

They had reached a heavy wooden door inlaid in the side of the passageway, which still stretched onward into the darkness. The light from the living room had nearly disappeared, and Zillion removed an electric torch hanging from the wall next to the door.

"You're about to find out." He fumbled around in the pockets of his brightly striped suit jacket and then withdrew a Poké Ball… rather, a Luxury Ball. Dawn blinked. _Those were very expensive!_ She should have expected it.

"Go! Politoed!"

With a red flash of energy, Zillion's Pokémon emerged from the ball. It was just as comical-looking as he was, with its lime-green coloring, bright eyes, and curled antenna.

"My dear friend, would you please use Bounce?"

With an eager croak, the Politoed rocked back on its orange toes. Without any warning, it leapt into the air and rocketed off the door. Something clicked inside, and then it slowly but surely opened inwards.

"The key is an attack?" Barry looked surprised. "That's very clever!"

"Bounce is much more useful than you'd realize. It packs an impressive punch, especially on a heavy old door like this one." Zillion nodded thoughtfully.

"All right, kids, let's get down to it. Ha-ah!"

Dawn and Barry cautiously entered the room, which was totally dark. The air was much closer and warmer than the tunnel outside, and it had an unpleasantly dusty scent.

Zillion stepped forward behind them, his torch casting uneven light across the room. "Now _here_ is my life's work."

Dawn gasped quietly. The room was filled to the brim with jewels and gemstones of every color and size. Some were uncut while others took the forms of hearts, oblongs, and opals. They spilled from wooden chests, hung off of hooks drilled into the walls, displayed on tasseled cushions… She had never seen anything like it. It looked like something out of a fairy tale.

"This is _amazing_!"

"Thank you, my dear!" Zillion sounded delighted, even though he must've heard this compliment hundreds of times. "This room is my pride and joy. I was born into the lap of luxury, just like my grandson here–" He poked Draco, who looked infuriated, in the side with his cane.

"But I wanted to do something with my life, something special. I wanted to make beautiful things for other people, just as providence had done for me. So I apprenticed myself to many different artisans in hopes that I would discover my true talents. At first, I tried glassblowing – I helped a great artist create the Hearthome Chapel's stain-glassed window – but it didn't strike my fancy. I moved from mosaic to pottery to painting, and I still didn't feel happy.

"I was entering my middling years and I still hadn't found my muse." Zillion set down the lantern and began to pace back and forth across the cavern floor. "And it was then that I met a most remarkable fellow who called himself the Underground Man. He showed me _his_ life's work, a vast network of tunnels that he created for other people to visit and enjoy. It was such a beautiful place, filled with jewels and gems like sparkling starlight. And that's when I knew.

"I knew that I had to take these stones, tap into their hearts, polish them, refine them… and give them back to the people. I had finally discovered what made me truly happy. Even today, I continue with my work, and I store the finished products here, where they're safe. Then, if a person wishes to make a purchase, I have the resources!"

Barry smiled politely. "What a nice story!"

But Dawn frowned. "I'm sorry, Mr. Bourgeoir, but what does this room and your story have to do with the thieves?"

"Ah! I nearly forgot!"

"You doddering old fool," Dawn heard Draco whisper under his breath.

"Come here, Detective Jenness," Zillion commanded. "This is what I need to show you." They moved towards the center of the room, where a lone empty pedestal stood. A single shaft of light seemed to rest upon it, although Dawn couldn't see the source that cast it.

Zillion tapped the pedestal with his cane. "This. This is where my pride and joy rested, my lovely, lovely Sun Stone. Oh, what a specimen! Golden, bright, and beautiful!" He turned towards them, wiping a single tear from his eye. "And now, it's gone!"

_A Sun Stone._ Dawn's jaw dropped open.

She couldn't believe it.


	4. Confusion is nothing new

**Four**

**Confusion is nothing new**

"I'm glad you're back, Mom." Dawn tried to take the enormous carpetbag from her mother, but Johanna wouldn't have it. She successfully struggled to pull it through the doorway herself, although it brought in a good deal of snow as well.

"I guess I'll have to mop that up." Dawn's mother looked sheepish. She rubbed the back of her neck. "Thank you for everything, daughter of mine. Now, where's the other one?"

"She's asleep." Dawn walked into the kitchen and reached underneath the sink for a roll of paper towels. Tearing the sheets off carefully, she gently patted down the puddle forming in the foyer.

Johanna looked at a loss for words as she watched her daughter, open-mouthed. "But it's only six o'clock!"

Dawn stood up and dusted off the knees of her jeans. She looked her mother square in the eye, and she could've sworn that she saw her tremble.

"She's gotten even worse."

"But…" Johanna slid to the floor, her eyes staring at nothing. "It's only been a few weeks…"

"A month, Mom. You've been gone for a month." Dawn grasped her mother's arm, not at all gently, and pulled her into the kitchen. Johanna blindly reached for one of the barstools that stood beneath the island counter and nearly fell over in the process.

"I can't believe it…"

"I'm going to order a pizza. Would you like anything on it?" Dawn asked curtly.

"Um… no. No thank you." After Dawn put down the phone, Johanna turned to look at her very carefully. "Dawn, sweetie, you have enormous bags under your eyes–"

She clenched her fists tightly at her sides. _I'm not going to scream. I won't. I promised Evie that I'd stop screaming._

Her mother seemed to have sensed the coming storm, and she switched topics quickly. "How's Barry? And Palmer and Cheryl?"

"They're fine. Cheryl brought Evie home today. I–"

The doorbell rang, cutting her off. "Hmmm. That was quick." She passed through the hallway towards the door and squinted through the peephole.

Her eyes widened in complete shock.

_Officer Jenny?_

**xXxXx**

"Hello again, Detective Jenness."

Dawn bowed stiffly. "Merry Christmas, Commander Starr. May I take your coat?"

"No, thank you. This will be a short visit." Jennifer Starr, clad in a trench coat the same color as her flinty eyes, reached out to shake hands with Dawn's mother.

"Lovely to see you again, Johanna. I heard that the refurbishment of Hoenn's contest halls this past month went smoothly under your direction."

"O-oh, yes! Thank you very much!" Her mother tucked a strand of blue-black hair, the same color as Dawn's, behind her ear, a habit that she shared with her daughters. "I'm very glad that it was such a success."

Jenny smiled, although it didn't quite meet her eyes. She was still standing in the middle of the living room, and if she planned to stay that way, there was no way that Dawn would be caught sitting down. She stood defiantly in front of her boss, arms crossed and storm gray eyes like chips of ice.

Johanna coughed and then quietly backed out of the room, muttering something like, "I'll leave you two alone."

"I was alerted, Dawn, that you're supervising the Bourgeoir case alongside Bartholomew McGonnigal."

"Yes," she answered with a short nod. "Yes, we are."

"Do you have any findings that you wish to report?"

For a moment, Dawn considered dropping old grudges and letting her boss in on the situation. But only for a moment. After all, Jenny's intervention on the Mars case had left her with a bad taste in her mouth. She still couldn't believe that her superior had rejected chasing down Jupiter and Saturn afterwards…

"If you'd like to know, you should go talk to the Bourgeoir family yourself. _Commander_," she added hastily.

Jenny's amber eyes flashed. She stepped forward until she and Dawn were nearly nose-to-nose. Dawn instinctually wanted to take a step back, but she knew that showing any of sign of fear wouldn't help her in the slightest.

"Look, _Dawn_," she sneered, dropping formalities altogether. "I know what you're looking for. A Sun Stone." Dawn subconsciously flinched at those poisonous words. "You want to heal your kid sister's curse, don't you?"

Dawn nodded slowly, never once taking her eyes from Jenny's.

"And despite what you've decided to remain mum about, I also know that the Bourgeoir's stolen property is a Sun Stone. Interesting. Very interesting." Jenny withdrew somewhat, her sneer becoming more like a smirk.

Dawn gasped quietly. "You can't seriously think that _I _stoleit?"

Jenny suddenly laughed, taking her by surprise. "Of course not! No matter what you may think, I actually trust you. A lot. And I never like the people I trust, because they seem to be a lot like myself. No offense, of course."

"Er… thanks. I guess." She didn't know whether to feel flattered or worry about the chance of having a screw loose. Because Jenny certainly had a bit of crazy in her, and the entire force could see that.

Her boss was abruptly serious once more, and Dawn shivered slightly at the quick change in temperature. "So. Because I trust you so much, Detective Jenness, I have two things for you.

"One," she began, thrusting her hand into her coat pocket and retrieving a thick manila envelope. "Read these over. And two," she continued, retrieving another, smaller envelope with a fancy stamp on its back, "Read this as well."

"I–"

Once again, she was cut short. Jenny clapped her on the shoulder, looking somewhat conflicted as she whispered, "Good luck, Jenness. I expect you to perform. As always."

In a swirl of trench coat and nighttime winter breeze, Officer Jenny vanished from the Jenness household. Dawn ran to the door and watched as her superior swung into the backseat of a swanky black Ford Explorer sitting silently yet watchfully on the snowy road.

"I brought drinks – oh." Behind her, her mother stood with a tray topped with three mugs of hot chesto tea.

"What did she want?"

"I don't know…" Dawn trailed off, clutching the two envelopes tightly to her chest.

There was an uncomfortable silence before her mother sighed and set the tray on the coffee table underneath the flat-screen. "I'll be in my room if you need me, sweetheart."

Dawn stared down at the steaming mug on the table in front of her. She remembered sitting in this very room in happier days, drinking cocoa with her mother and coloring pictures on the floor. Sometimes, Johanna would bring home pictures of the contests she had recently coordinated. She would spread them out on the floor, and Dawn would point out the dresses that she liked.

_What happened to us? What happened to me?_

She then thought of how she'd snapped at Barry earlier in the day, the image of his shocked face burned into the back of her eyes.

_When did I forget how to forgive?_

Johanna's footsteps had nearly died away when she suddenly blurted out, "Mommy!"

She immediately regretted it. She hadn't called her mother that in years.

Johanna halted, her back to her daughter. "Yes?"

"Please… don't leave us again. If you don't have to. I mean… I pretend like I don't need you anymore. But I do. And Evie misses you. I know that I can't replace her for you, no matter how much I take care of her." She forcibly cut off her own mumbling and blushed a deep shade of red. Suddenly, her socks looked very interesting, and oh, my, the carpet needed a vacuuming, didn't it–

In a flash, Johanna's arms were wrapped around her and her head was on her mother's shoulder and tears were streaming from her eyes–

"Oh, baby girl, I am so sorry for everything that I've put you through."

They stayed that way for a while as the snow fell even heavier than before.

**xXxXx**

Dawn snuggled beneath the woolly blanket knitted by her grandmother years ago and reached down to open the first envelope, the tightly clasped manila one. As she was doing so, she accidentally brushed her thumb against the still burning mug of tea.

"Hhhh!" She dropped the envelope, and it spilled its contents all over the floor. She quickly set the mug back down on the coffee table and dropped to the floor, trying to collect the mess of paper. A certain item caught her eye right away – a photograph.

A rather rotund man with salt and pepper hair, severe crow's feet, and a wide smile stood grinning in front of an opulent fountain. A pair of golden glasses perched atop his large nose, and a Pichu was tugging on his ear. He was shaking hands with a man that Dawn knew far too well.

Cyrus Schemmel, the notorious boss of Team Galactic, looked less than happy as he stood at the man's side. He would have been handsome if not for his perpetual grimace and sunken eyes. Dawn frowned and turned over the photograph, hoping for a write-up.

_Landscaping tycoon Ronald Backlot shakes hands with Team Galactic's head honcho Cyrus Schemmel after signing a business deal. June 7__th__, 1521 AUE._

_ Backlot?_ For some reason, that name sounded very, very familiar. She skimmed the next piece of paper, which read:

**Ronald N. Backlot**

Birthdate: June 21st, 1447 After Unown Emerged

Height: 175.26 centimeters

Eyes: Brown

Marital status: Widowed

_Mr. Backlot resides in his Pokémon Mansion between Hearthome City and Pastoria City. He made his first million by the time he was 17 when he created a special hedge sculpting device. He has a special fondness for baby Pokémon. He is credited with establishing the so-called Trophy Garden, which he has recently opened to the public. The Garden contains many wild species of Pokémon native to the Sinnoh region as well as foreign Pokémon that Backlot claims have traveled to his garden in search of a safe haven. However, Backlot's butler (who wished to remain anonymous in this report) admits to importing these Pokémon from other regions. Backlot has been affiliated with numerous influential figures of our time, including billionaire jeweler Zillion Bourgeoir, his son (travel magnate Miles Bourgeoir), and Team Galactic's leader Cyrus Schemmel._

Backlot's relation to the Bourgeoirs struck her with a sense of foreboding. She quickly pawed through the rest of the manila envelope's contents, which included articles on Backlot, another photograph in which he posed with a wild-looking Zillion, and finally…

…a rather shaky photo of the fountain that had appeared behind Backlot and Cyrus.

A policeman in the corner appeared to be running at the photographer, his mouth opened wide to form the word _Stop!_ But the decoration atop the fountain, now frozen over with ice, drew Dawn's eye the most: a beautifully golden, egg-shaped object had been placed there. At the bottom of the photograph, someone had scribbled _December 14__th__, 1522_.

Dawn frowned, confused. That had only been a day before the Bouregoir break-in– Suddenly, everything seemed even more muddled to her.

_Had Mr. Backlot stolen the Bourgeoirs' Sun Stone? _But if the break-in had been afterward… Did Zillion only notice its disappearance the next day? Or, did he choose to wait to report it, for some unknown reason?

She rubbed her tired eyes. This was becoming even more complicated than she had thought. She mentally listed things that she would need to discuss with Barry the next day: looking up Backlot, possibly acquiring a search warrant, contacting Zillion for his opinion. _And what was Cyrus's place in all of this?_ Whatever it was, Dawn knew she wouldn't like it.

Her hand brushed something smooth to her right, and she looked down to see the second envelope. It was much smaller and richly cream-colored, with a fancy red seal stamped onto the flap. She looked closely at it and saw a heavily embellished _B_, with a lightning bolt striking through it.

She slowly unfolded herself from the floor and passed through the double French doors at the back of the living room. Her mother's office was stuffed to the brim with costumes in every color, destination posters, and pictures with prominent members of the Pokémon League. Out of the corner of Dawn's eye, the ridiculously purple-haired Fantina gave her a cheeky wave, looking no older than she had on the day that Dawn had battled her for the Relic Badge.

She blinked. _That was over five years ago, wasn't it? _She had been fifteen when she'd graduated Trainer's School and set out from Twinleaf Town on her own journey. Now she was barely twenty, but her time on the road seemed millions of years away.

A glint from the top of the filigreed desk caught her eye. Her mother's letter opener was crested in gold, meant to represent her treasured Glameow's eyes and her beloved Umbreon's crest. Dawn picked it up and stroked the smooth surface absentmindedly, remembering the sunlit days where she and Barry had pretended that it was a sword they used to fend off pirates, highway robbers, and, of course, members of Team Galactic.

She quietly slid the doors shut and padded towards the coffee table. She picked up the envelope and slit the seal.

A heavy, texturized piece of paper fell out. An invitation. She frowned, surprised. _A last-minute Christmas party?_

And then the realization immediately hit her.

_No. _The_ Christmas party. The most famous Christmas party of the year._

That was where she had heard the name Backlot before.


	5. The drum beats out of time

**Author's note: **First of all, I'm pretty much an idiot for claiming that I'd finish this before Christmas. I had finals, came home for two days, and went abroad for a week and a half. Anyway, here's my apology. Besides, I'm hoping to finish this overdue story as soon as possible – I need to get back to _Whisper_! Thanks for dealing with me. By the way, I hope that your holidays were amazing!

P.S. Dawn's ball gown is actually a real dress. I found it online at Rent the Runway, so you can look it up there!

**Five**

**The drum beats out of time**

_To a most distinguished guest, __**Ms. Dawn Emily Jenness**__-_

_It is my very special honor to invite you to my annual Christmas Ball! Invitation to this white-tie affair is reserved for only the most important and influential persons in the Sinnoh region…_

Dawn blinked. _She was an important and influential person?_ Jenny Starr didn't seem to think so!

The invitation went on and on, becoming even more pompous. She skimmed to the bottom and read:

_The ball will take place on December 23__rd__, 1522. The doors to the Pokémon Mansion will open at seven o'clock in the evening…_

…_With warm regards,_

_Ronald N. Backlot_

She rolled over onto her back and sighed, staring at the flickering shadows cast by the fireplace dance across the ceiling. Jenny was trying to help her – she could see that. The case file had revealed a lot more background to the break-in than she had known before, but it didn't make it any less confusing.

And where did an invitation to the Christmas party of the year figure into all of this?

She sat up quickly enough to cause whiplash. Rubbing the back of her neck, she closed her eyes tiredly and tried to prepare for the inevitable.

"This thing is in a week!"

And–

"Oh, no. I need a dress, don't I?"

**xXxXx**

It was five days to Christmas, but at the moment, Dawn could care less. She was too confused to think about the ensuing festivities, anyway, and all because of–

"Dress shopping is _ridiculous_! _No one_ should ever, and I mean _ever_, have to deal with this!"

"Aw, c'mon, Dawn! You used to love dressing up when you were younger. You were such a girly girl back then." Her mother winked as she absentmindedly stroked a chocolate-colored confection with way too many ruffles draped atop the steadily growing discard pile.

Dawn only grimaced. The entire establishment was much too… _frilly_ for Dawn's taste. She had never been to the Veilstone Department Store before, even in her trainer days, and she wasn't planning on a return after this entire ordeal was over.

"Now _those_ were the days, when you were set on following me into the world of Contests! It's funny how things change…"

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well…" What she wanted to say in response was, _I wanted to do something practical and meaningful with my life! Pokémon Contests are the _exact _opposite!_

But for the sake of everything, she held that thought deep inside.

"I can't believe this. Can't we, like, take a lunch break or something? I could really use about five cups of coffee right now."

Evie half-giggled and half-coughed. "Oh, big sis! Just a few more tries, please, pretty please! I promise, you'll be the belle of the ball!" She sighed dreamily, the soft pink glow of the tiny lights surrounding the dressing room mirror reflected in her eyes.

Dawn looked into those eyes, much too large for her emaciated face, and tried to smile. "Oh, well. Anything for you, Evie." Her heart jumped into her throat, and she turned around towards the three-way mirror, suddenly feeling an intense burst of self-hate that had nothing to do with the skanky red number that she was currently imprisoned by, which managed to emphasize her distinct lack of curves in an even more obvious way.

"Get out, both of you. I'm going to try the next _thing_ on."

**xXxXx**

"So, what do you make of this whole ball thing?" Dawn asked around a slice of exceedingly greasy pizza. It was nearly midnight, but both she and Barry were, for some reason, still stuck at the office. They had ditched their desks in favor of a mound of blankets scattered across the carpet under the ever-twinkling lights of the resolute Christmas tree, and instead of Muzak streaming from the overhead speakers, they had changed the radio to a holiday-themed channel.

_"Everybody knows a turkey and some mistletoe,_

_ Help to make the season bright…"_

"Dunno," Barry munched, his chewing surging above Nat King Cole's velvet vocals. He swallowed and took an enormous gulp of hot chocolate. "It's nice to be recognized by the department, I guess, but…" He frowned, staring off into nothing.

"I know that's not why Commander Starr wants us there."

"She wants us to the work the place, I get it," Dawn nodded in confirmation. She sighed, ditching her pizza and rolling backwards until the sparkling ceiling was right above her, softly lit by the strings of white lights.

"Barry?"

"Hmmm?"

In a split second, she decided against it.

"Ah, never mind."

In her head, plans and thoughts chased each other around and around like a Charmander after its tail. In the middle of it all was a nebula of confusion the size of a Wailord, with all the unlikely prospects of budging from its position.

"Did you… buy a dress? For the party?"

The question struck her as so odd and out of the blue that she sat back up on her knees and looked him in the eye. There was something flickering behind those tawny lights, but she couldn't decide what.

"Yeah, I actually did." She laughed. "It was the worst afternoon that I've had in awhile, to be honest."

Anyway, Dawn didn't even want to think about how much the Bibhu Mohapatra (her mother's favorite designer, apparently) gown had cost. Strangely enough, though, she had even liked it. No matter the times or the season, her favorite color would always be pink – not the flashy or tacky kind, but the soft, ballet slippers color that reminded her of summer and twilight. It was a strapless sweetheart with a lace bodice that reached past her hips and a crinkled silk skirt that flowed like water over her legs.

Despite its total impracticality, and the freezing temperatures, and the fact that she would most likely never wear it again, she had probably smiled so goofily at her reflection that her mother had to buy it for her. She pinched the bridge of her nose at the thought, wondering what exactly had gotten into her.

_Maybe it was hearing Evie's laughter, seeing her smile?_

"I'm sure that you'll look– I mean, you'll probably be– Ugh."

_"Although it's been said, many times, many ways…"_

She didn't catch a proper glimpse of his face as he turned away to pick another slice of pizza, and she didn't for the rest of the night, either.

**xXxXx**

Her raw knuckles thunked dully on the austere high-rise's carved door. No one appeared for several minutes, despite her repeated attempts to gain access.

"Maybe they aren't home?" Barry asked, hugging himself as he jumped up and down in an effort to stay warm. "What happened to your mittens?"

"Um…" _Should I tell him the true reason? That this ball thing is kinda freaking me out and I've become a straight-up basket case?_ "Um, I forgot them?"

"Here," he said, and before she could stop him, he had gently grabbed her hands and pushed his own gloves over them. They were a bit too large and had definitely seen better days, but they were perfectly warm and cozy. Dawn looked up at his unreadable face and, for the millionth time in a row, wondered what he had wanted to tell her the night before.

"Barry, thank you–"

"Well, well, well!" The door suddenly swung wide open. "If it isn't my two favorite detectives– Oh." Zillion Bourgeoir's voice fell several decibels from an exuberant shout to a curious whisper. "Am I interrupting something?"

Dawn's face was on fire as she tore her now-gloved hands hurriedly from Barry's naked ones. She turned to Zillion and gave a stiff bow. "Hello, Mr. Bourgeoir. We hope you aren't too busy, but we wanted to talk to you–"

"Of course, of course!" He waved his gold-topped cane around in the air, forcing Barry to duck to avoid getting hit in the head. "Come on in out of the cold, youg'uns! It's a frosty one today, eh?"

Once they were comfortably seated inside the grand library that Zillion had received them in on their last visit, Dawn leaned forward in her cushy chair and looked Zillion square in the eye, which was quite eye-watering, considering his brightly-dotted bowtie.

"Mr. Bourgeoir, will you be attending the Backlot Christmas party?"

"Why, yes!" Zillion looked mildly surprised. "Old Ronnie – well, I shouldn't call him old, he's centuries younger than yours truly – we've always gotten along fabulously!" He suddenly drew in even closer to Dawn, and she was too shocked to shrink back even an inch.

"I crafted his wife's engagement ring myself! A beautiful, precious diamond that one was, with a golden band the color of sunlight!" He wiped a real tear from his eye with a lace-edged handkerchief. "Poor Clarisse! We lost her far too soon, we did…"

"Er… my apologies, Mr. Bourgeoir, sir, but–"

"Call me Zillion, boy! Mr. Bourgeoir is my son!" Zillion winked at the two, who gave each other sideways glances.

Barry coughed. "Um, right. Zillion… sir. How did you become so close with Mr. Backlot?"

"Well, it was about the time that I had gotten into the gardening business– you do remember that long-winded bit I told you, right, about how I searched for years and years, desperately longing to find my life's craft? Anyway, I began to hear of an enterprising young man, a certain Ronald Backlot, who, at a very tender age, had created a very technical hedge-sculptor! He was shaping hedges and bushes and all kinds of plants into absolutely beautiful models of Pokémon from all over the world! People were snatching up both the hedge growths and this sculpting tool at the craziest rates, and I knew that I had to meet him, because he was someone who was in love with his art, just as I wished to be someday!"

"And you're still friends?"

"Yes, yes! We've always been close, Barney–"

"Barry."

"Many pardons. Barry–"

"Name-dropping again, Grandfather?" Draco Bourgeoir appeared out of the gloomy recesses of the library. He threw an extra log onto the enormous fire built in the library's grand marble fireplace, then rubbed his hands together like some kind of evil genius. The fire cast strange shadows on his fine features, making his face look even sharper and crueler than it had been the last time they had met.

"Why, hello, Draco!" Zillion twisted in his seat in order to greet his grandson. "You're already home from school?"

_School?_ Dawn blinked. _This boy is still young enough to be in school? But he seems so… so… unpleasant… _She mentally compared Draco's pretentiousness to Evie's open charm and couldn't believe that the two were probably close in age.

"The Headmaster called an early dismissal. Apparently, a huge storm's on the horizon, coming down from the North. Father and Mother will be stuck in Snowpoint City for the next few days."

"Well, that's too bad! Speaking of, I should call my son." Zillion stood up in a sprightly manner and held out his hand. "Excuse me, detectives. I promise, I shall return!"

As soon as he had disappeared, Draco took his seat. "No matter what my grandfather says, his relationship has soured with that old liar Backlot over the years."

Dawn watched him warily, becoming even more suspicious. "Why do you say that?"

"Because no matter how many gems and jewelry and trinkets that my grandfather sells, he has never been as happy in life as Ronald Backlot has."


	6. You say, go slow

**Six**

**You say, go slow**

Dawn drew in a deep breath and turned around to face the mirror. Johanna stood to the side, beaming, and her father, recently arrived home from an extended business trip with Professor Rowan to the Johto region, hugged her mother's side. On his wrist he wore his Pokétch, complete with the new application that Dawn and Evie had splurged on.

"You're an absolute _rose_, baby girl. So beautiful." Her father took Dawn's hand and kissed it, and she was torn between laughing and pulling it away. "It's so nice to be home with my three leading ladies!"

Evie took her other hand, her face aglow with excitement. "You look like a princess, Dawn – no, a queen! I can't believe you get to go to a real-life _ball_–"

"Um… Oh! Sorry to interrupt…" Barry stood in the doorway of her parents' bedroom. Dawn whirled around in surprise and saw the strangest expression cross his face–

_It was the evening of the school formal, five years ago, the eve of the time when they would out in the world to finally put their education to the test…_

_ Dawn was laughing; Lucas Rowan was an expert dancing partner, his eyebrows scrunched up in concentration as he twirled her around the dance floor… It was the happiest she'd been since Evie had been cursed two years before… She didn't understand why dancing made her feel this way, so light and free… Why…?_

_ And there stood Barry, his eyes focused only on her over Zoey Williams's bright red hair as they danced together as well. His stare made her blush madly…_

_ And later... On their walk home together, he would tell her that she was the most beautiful girl that he'd ever seen. And they wouldn't see each other again for nearly a year, until they were both the champions that they'd always wanted to be…_

Dawn blinked at the rush of memories suddenly spilling through her head.

_Why now? Why_ those_ moments?_

"The company car's here, Dawn," he whispered after an awkward pause.

Evie's eyes moved slowly from her sister, absolutely resplendent in her ball gown, and to Barry, who cut a very dashing figure in his tuxedo, as the latter reached for the former's hand, so very gently, and followed her down the stairs and towards the front door. Their parents followed along as well, wishing them good luck, but Evie stayed behind, smiling to herself.

"She's way too oblivious for her own good."

**xXxXx**

On foot, the journey from Twinleaf Town to Route 212 would have been an all-night ordeal, especially in the snow. But inside the plush limousine, the trip was much quicker as it rocketed down the slick roads and into the darkness. The sky had a light pink cast foretelling the coming snowstorm that Draco had mentioned days before.

"You don't even have a real coat!" Barry sounded appalled. "I'll never understand girls."

"It's actually not as bad out as it has been recently," Dawn answered absentmindedly as she pulled her flimsy wrap tighter around her shoulders and tried to get a glimpse of the view out the tinted windows. But the streets were very dark and slick tonight…

"Barry…"

"Yeah?"

"You're my best friend. You know that, right?"

"Wha–"

"I just wanted to let you know." She sat up straighter in the cushy seat and focused in on him.

"I was thinking, a few days ago, about how much you used to smile. You know, when we were younger. And I saw you smile, and I thought it seemed so strange that I was so, I don't know, drawn to it? And I realized…" She stared at her hands, which were balled into fists on her lap.

"I realized that you don't smile a lot anymore, and that's why I was so surprised. And I also realized that it's mostly my fault. I've been way too hard on you over the years. I know it. I know that I've been taking my problems out on you, and that's anything but fair."

Barry's tawny eyes flickered with something that she didn't recognize, but it vanished almost right away. "It's not like that, Dawn–"

"No, it is! My mom came home a few nights ago, and I was being so horrible to her because she hadn't been around for over a month, and Evie just keeps getting sicker and sicker, but I realized that recently I've been failing to look at all the good things she does for us. A lot more than the bad things, anyway. I feel like I've been taking everything and everyone for granted–"

"Dawn. Stop."

She looked up from her lap, surprised, to see the corner of her partner's crooked mouth twitching, although she wasn't sure if it was turning into a smile or frown. "We all know what you're going through. All of us – your mom, your dad, my parents, Rowan, Lucas, our friends, even a lot of people in the department. Even Jenny Starr, I think. We know how much of an impact Evie's curse has made on your life, almost as big an impact as it made on hers. But you know what?

"We can't even begin to pretend to understand what's going through your head. Even if all this had never happened, we still couldn't. For what it's worth, I _know_ that you still appreciate me, no matter how much or little you see me smile.

"And that's why I've never, for even one second, thought that you were no longer my best friend."

Dawn came to the sudden realization that she was about to cry. "Wow," she said, her voice hoarse. "Wow. Um." She reached up to rub her eyes dry, just in case. She didn't want to ruin the make-up that Evie had so carefully applied hours ago.

She felt mildly foolish as she continued with, "That was really nice to hear."

Barry's eyes were soft and his smile, the smile that she had missed so much, genuine. "I'll make a promise to smile more if you'll do it more as well. Okay?"

The sheet of glass separating the driver from the passenger side slid open, causing her to jump in her seat.

"We're here."

**xXxXx**

"Jenness, McGonnigal."

Dawn nodded. "Commander Starr, sir."

Officer Jenny dazzled in a severe asymmetrical cut complete with a daring slit reaching nearly to her thigh. The silky green material was ruched at the bodice but elegantly loose in the skirt. Many eyes were on her tonight, and not only because of her esteemed position in the police force.

The Commander gestured with a slight turn of her head towards the center of the enormous ballroom. There stood a paunchy older man that could only be Backlot, and next to him–

"Oh, no–"

"You'll just need to ignore him for the time being, Jenness. He's promised to be on his best behavior tonight."

"He's a wanted criminal! I can't believe that you'd let him–"

"Jenness, I'd like to speak to you alone for just a few minutes."

"If you want to talk to me, Barry comes along as well." Dawn stood defiantly in front of her boss, arms crossed over her chest.

Barry put a warm hand on his partner's goose bump-covered shoulder, further confirming Dawn's brash statement.

Jenny rolled her eyes. "Come quietly," she answered finally, and it sounded a lot like a threat. She beckoned the pair towards a quiet corner, and Dawn took a good look around the ballroom.

The dance floor was made of a beautiful golden wood that gave off a light all its own, and the rest of the room, full of circular tables covered in starched white tablecloths and dazzling centerpieces, was carpeted in a thick red pile that Dawn was having difficulty balancing on in her absolutely ridiculous high heels. Enormous columns lined the walls, and in between were floor-to-ceiling windows draped in heavy red velvet and tied back with intricately woven golden ropes. A heavy chandelier with dripping diamonds hung from the sky-high ceiling, as if it wanted to affirm that Mr. Backlot was indeed very, very wealthy.

She also scanned the room for anything that would prove useful in… a worst-case scenario (but she didn't really want to think about that kind of possibility). The most obvious exit was the one they had come through, guarded by two severe-looking butlers. Dawn was sure that there were even more patrolling the hallways branching off from the lush foyer. The gigantic windows didn't look like they'd open too easily, but she was sure that the stage on the opposing side of the ballroom would have multiple doors in its wings–

"Hellooo, Jenness? Are you on this planet or not?"

"Sorry, sir!" She jolted out of her reverie.

"Anyway, Cyrus is here as Backlot's distinguished guest. And I want you two to find out why. That's your job for tonight."

"What about the Sun Stone?" Barry asked.

Jenny's face darkened. "It's missing," she finally replied.

"What–"

"We don't know why. It could be as innocent as it was taken for cleaning, or that Backlot removed it from the fountain so that it wouldn't freeze over in this dratted weather. Or, well…" Her brow furrowed as if she had already speculated something much worse.

"Anyway, the point is, we can't worry about that right now. The Bourgeoirs will be on the backburner tonight. I'm more concerned about that devil Cyrus. Have you noticed that you're not the only ones from the force here tonight?"

Dawn then noticed two things: first, that each formidable-looking butler and cranky maid was indeed being tailed by an officer disguised as an innocent partygoer; and second, that there was real worry hidden behind the normally arrogant tone of Jenny's voice.

"You're not alone on this one, kids. There's more than enough back-up waltzing around."

"Alright…" Dawn finally trailed off. "We've got your back, Commander." Barry nodded his assent, but he wasn't really paying attention as he tapped his feet in time with the jazz band's jumpy tune.

"Good." Jenny gave them a real, genuine smile, which threw Dawn off more than anything else that had transpired so far.

Then she leaned in closer to Dawn, until they were nearly nose-to-nose. "And Jenness…"

"I expect you to perform, as always."

"What does that mean?"

Jenny rolled her eyes once more and lightly punched Dawn's arm. "You've gotta blend in, Dawn. Dance with your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend!"

She offhandedly wondered why that sounded so unconvincing.

But Officer Jenny ignored her. "Just make it look good."

She blinked, hard. "What are you even talking about?"

"Perform," Jenny repeated slowly, and only then did Dawn know what she meant. But how had this woman already figured out what was going on between her and Barry, when Dawn didn't even really understand what it meant?

"But why would I do–"

It didn't matter; Jenny had already vanished into the crowd. Dawn was left staring after her, wondering how her superior was so confident that she could suddenly ruin her relationship with Barry, a relationship that she had become all too conscious of...

**xXxXx**

"What did she tell you before?" Barry asked as Dawn set her wrap down at the nearest table. She didn't have a purse to hold her most valuable, well, _assets_, but she'd taken care of that already. She'd had an interior pocket sewn into her dress's full skirt at the tailors, just big enough for three minimized Poké Balls…

"C'mon, Barry," she answered, trying to keep it all in for the Commander's sake. "Let's dance."

His tawny eyes went comically wide as she dragged him out onto the dance floor with iron fists, knowing all to well that this time, dancing wouldn't relieve her worries at all…


	7. I'm walking too far ahead

**Seven**

**I'm walking too far ahead**

"Um, ugh. Look, I'm a horrible dancer–"

"No, it's fine!" Barry hastily replied. "I – OUCH!"

Dawn couldn't stop apologizing for stabbing him in the foot with her precariously high heels, but he shrugged it off with good grace, albeit a slight grimace.

"It's not a big deal, Dawn…"

She wondered how it was possible that being so close together on the dance floor made the space between them seem even larger. Only an hour ago she'd reaffirmed their best friendship, but something strange had taken root in her heart over the past week. It wasn't an entirely new thing – more like a dormant creature that had always been there, slumbering and waiting for the day that it decided to suddenly and unexpectedly emerge from its hideaway. It was an altogether pleasant strangeness, but…

And Jenny just expected her to ruin it all in one fell swoop? As a distraction for the rest of the assumedly voyeuristic guests? What was wrong with that woman?

_No,_ Dawn chided herself. _In the end, it'll be your fault for listening to her._

She caught him staring at her once more with those wide tawny eyes, which were long-lashed in a most unfair way (Evie would have had to spend even more time on hers with the mascara wand to achieve _those_ lengths) and full of a light that never seemed to relent. She blushed, turning away from his face to look over his shoulder at the jazz band, which was currently playing something slow and sweet, bringing every couple present onto the dance floor.

_"Sometimes, you picture me,_

_ I'm walking too far ahead…"_

"Um, Dawn." Barry's quiet cough, which somehow sounded louder than the sultry crooning of the singer, brought her back to the present, and she found herself once more surrounded by that golden gaze. "Look, I wanted to ask you something, and maybe I've waited a bit too long, but I'm hoping that maybe…"

"What? Maybe what?" She wanted to hear something so badly, but she wasn't sure what. But wait, if it was… _Oh. No. Not now–_

"Maybe, when this is all over, and I mean _all_ over, we could, you and me–"

"Barry, look." She couldn't believe that this was happening, and all without her slightest coercion. _Was Jenny an effing_ psychic_?_

"I'm sorry, but… Let's not do this."

His blush was maddening. "I mean, I _know_ this isn't the right time, because we're playing cops, you know, but–"

She cut off his train of mumbling. "It won't be the best time, ever… Barry."

As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to take it all back. She wanted to punch Jennifer Starr in the face. No, she wanted to punch herself in the face. _Why was she doing this? Who had decided that this was a good idea, anyway?_

But she knew that it was the right thing to do. If she was this willing to do this to him, to ruin one of the people that she cared about most in front of a crowd of strangers in order to save the department's ass, he deserved much better. Sure, there would be time to apologize. One day, maybe. Maybe tomorrow.

But that wouldn't matter, because this kind of lie didn't deserve tomorrow.

The light had gone out of his eyes, and that was what hurt her the most, to have killed that beautiful, wonderful light. "What… Why?"

Out of habit, she nervously reached up to tug on a stray curl, but it was unaccustomedly sticky with some kind of jell and a helmet of hairspray. _Stupid, stupid, _stupid_._ "I'm too broken up for things… things like that," she responded lamely, knowing that that sounded like total bullshit and, at that point, not really caring either way.

"Too _broken_? What are you even talking about? What does that even mean?" His face was the epitome of skeptical, his voice was slowly but surely growing louder, and a nearby pair of dancers turned their heads to listen in.

_Oh, great. Jenny had been right. People like this stuff more than the stuff they're supposed to like. What's a rom-com compared to a nice, juicy break-up story? What's a honest kiss compared to an all-out fight? Which will people talk about more, at the end of the day?_

_Well, let them stare. You've already ruined everything, anyway._

"I just can't… Everything that's happened… I can't let you…"

What she wanted to say, no scream, was, _Of course! This is a great time! Let's do this right now! Because I already love you – you're my best friend, I just told you, didn't I? So I can be _in_ love with you as well, right? RIGHT?!_

But what she said instead was, "I'm too busy right now, anyway." _There. That does it. You win_ all_ the bitch points tonight, Dawn._

The fading light was replaced with a cold, hard ice that looked far too wrong beside the laughter lines etched into his temples.

"I see."

His hands slowly dropped from her waist, where they had settled so naturally before, and the emptiness that they left behind hurt more than anything she'd ever felt before. And then he took a step back, and then another, and an enormous lump suddenly appeared in her throat.

"I guess I should let you get back to work, then."

"Barry, no, you don't understand–"

"No," he interrupted, his crooked smile pained. "I think I do."

There were a few silent moments, and her eyes were prickly with unshed tears. _What had happened? _Why_ had it happened?_

"Just don't pin that badge too hard over your heart," Barry finally said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. He pointed to her chest, where her detective's pin usually rested, but Dawn knew that that wasn't all that he meant. "You might make a hole in it."

_That was it. She was done. Screw Jenny. Screw Team Galactic. Screw the Sun Stone, for all she cared! She refused. She could fix it. He was still here. She had time!_

"No, please–"

But he had already moved away, back towards the table where she had deposited her shawl. She looked around the room and realized that even more people were unabashedly staring at her, some with raised eyebrows and even one little old lady, whose lipsticked mouth formed a perfect _O_.

_Was that a good enough performance for you?! _she screamed internally, desperately wishing that she'd never agreed to come to this stupid, stupid ball. She didn't even care that the entire room had overheard that conversation, and probably strung together a load of perfectly-accurate assumptions about her as both a person and a friend and a… Well, she wasn't sure what she would have been, anyway, was she?

_How did I do? _she continued to mentally scream, hoping to the high heavens that Jenny could hear her._ Oh, sure, I've only taken a giant dump on my best friend that I love, no problem, I did it for the cause–_

It was only then that she noticed a few of her colleagues disappearing into the hallways leading off the ballroom, unnoticed by the mansion's security service and the rest of the partygoers.

_So. Success. _She hugged her sides, wondering why she felt even worse.

"Excuse me, missy, I hate to… er, interrupt. But might you be Detective Dawn Jenness?"

For a second, she thought that it was Zillion speaking, the pattern of casually polite speech was so familiar. But when she turned around, her heart like a sinking stone trapped in the current of a rushing river, she saw none other than Ronald N. Backlot.

**xXxXx**

"It's a true honor to meet you, Mr. Backlot," Dawn remarked flatly, dropping an atypically graceful curtsy. Despite everything, her mind was a million miles away, in a way that even the most half-assed detective would've been ashamed of. But all she could think of was the back of Barry's golden head slowly but surely disappearing through the crowded ballroom, the emptiness in his eyes as he had turned away from her for what seemed like the last time.

"The pleasure's mine, Miss Jenness!" Backlot's voice brought her back to the present. He was even plumper than he had looked in the photo from the case file, but his beady eyes, far too shifty for her liking, were much sharper behind those gold-rimmed glasses than the evidence had provided. He was dressed in a finely tailored plum suit, not unlike the outrageous ones that Zillion sometimes wore, but his Pichu was nowhere in sight.

Dawn wondered if this was a good thing or a bad one.

"Now, may I just say, I have heard many, many wonderful things about you and your friend Bartholomew McGonnigal! Wow, what a name that young fellow has!" Backlot laughed heartily, but when Dawn didn't join in, he coughed awkwardly and went on.

"But Commander Starr has just told me what a great asset you are to the police force! The best detectives that she has! And you both must be, after all, beating the Pokémon League at such a tender young age!" Backlot smacked his lips in satisfaction. "Yes, we of Backlot Industries are very, very proud of you!

"Which reminds me," he continued without letting her get in so much as a _'thank you'_. "Because you're such an esteemed Pokémon trainer, would you mind terribly helping me out with a wee problem? It would only take a minute, I swear!" He paused, simultaneously wetting his lips and wringing his hands.

"You see, my beloved Pichu has just recently fallen sick of with something I cannot quite fathom. I was ready to bring her to the nearest Pokemon Center tomorrow, only I realized that the back roads will be closed for that crazy snowstorm and, of course, Christmas Eve… which it already is, I guess, isn't it! It's past midnight! How strange, how time flies! But you know so much about Pokémon, don't you? So I thought I could ask–"

Dawn was no longer listening to the old man's babbling. Jenny's voice echoed in her head. _Find out why Cyrus is here tonight. That's your job._

Was she about to do something completely and utterly stupid? It sure looked like it. But hopefully, just hopefully, this bumbling billionaire would give her some kind of clue.

"Of course, Mr. Backlot. I would love to help you," she answered, cutting him off right in his tracks.

"Why, how absolutely right keen of you, darling! Right this way, to my office! Oh, I'm much more grateful than you'll ever know! And my poor Peachy will be, as well, I can assure you!" He chuckled once more, but for some reason, his laughter sounded off-key to her.

_Yeah, this is definitely the dumbest thing I've done since I agreed to come to this stupid ball._

**xXxXx**

On the dance floor, Jennifer Starr lazily sipped from a champagne flute, wishing with all of her heart for a nice beer instead. She watched a good majority of the force disappear into the shadowy hallways leading off the bright ballroom, unseen by Backlot's nosey staff due to Dawn's fine performance. She couldn't help it; she smiled widely, the conversation with some (now offended) Kanto dignitary that had been standing beside her long forgotten.

Next to her, Barry McGonnigal tapped his foot nervously on the golden parquet.

"Is she going to be okay, Commander?"

"I have complete and utter faith in Detective Jenness, Barry." Jenny's smile grew even wider.

"And besides, you two put on quite the show."

The jazz singer continued on with her song, her eyes closed as she tipped her head back towards the high golden ceiling.

"_If you're lost, you can look, and you will find me,_

_ time after time…"_


	8. Secrets stolen from deep inside

**Eight**

**Secrets stolen from deep inside**

"Again and again, Miss Jenness, thank you so much for agreeing to help me and my little Peachy! I can't tell you how much this means to me–"

The hallway carpet was just as thick and red as the one surrounding the ballroom, and Dawn knew that there was no way she would be able to hear any incoming footsteps. At one point, a cop that she vaguely recognized looked out from behind a heavy curtain, winked at her, and then disappeared. But otherwise, she and Backlot were completely alone. This worried her a lot, and she found it hard to keep a straight face.

They stopped in front of a pair of magnificently constructed doors that looked strikingly similar to the ones leading into Zillion Bourgeoir's underground jewel warehouse. "My office!" Backlot said proudly, his chubby arms held open in a gesture of welcome.

Dawn stepped up, trying to think as fast as possible. "What lovely doors," she casually remarked, reaching out to touch the aged wood. She stroked its smooth surface thoughtfully, and then turned to her host, who was watching her with a hesitant smile.

"Mr. Backlot. Did you take Zillion Bourgeoir's Sun Stone?" The question escaped her mouth before she could swallow it back.

Backlot's eyes widened in surprise. "I, uh – why would I – That stone is Zillion's pride and joy! Why would I take it?"

"Well, it _is_ quite rare–"

"But Zillion is _family_! Again, why would I take his property?"

This brought Dawn to an unexpected stop. "Wait… You mean you and Zillion are _like_ family?"

"No, no, NO!" Backlot waved his hands in the air like he was trying to swat away a pesky Beedrill. "Zillion is an older cousin of mine, and I've been very close with him since childhood! I've always admired him greatly, so why in the world would I take his most prized possession from him?"

Dawn blinked slowly. "You and Zillion are related…" Suddenly, it all made sense – the similar speech patterns, the shared fondness of eclectic suits, the presence of the beautiful custom-built doors…

But then she frowned as she remembered back on her conversations with the eccentric old man, and the puzzle pieces fell apart once more.

"Zillion told us that you two met when you were a teenager and he was middle-aged because, as a fellow artist, he admired your hedge-sculpting abilities… But if you're saying that the two of you have always been close… That makes no sense." The gears were turning rapidly in her head, but she wasn't getting anywhere, and for what seemed like the millionth time, she wished that Barry was there with her.

"This doesn't make any sense. Why would he lie? What good would that do him?"

"Well…" Backlot ruefully scratched the back of his flabby neck. "The thing is, Miss Jenness, I'm actually not much of a hedge-sculptor. In fact, I've never really done anything special at all. You see, my side of the family has always been poorer than Zillion's. He felt badly for me, so he took me under his wing and told me that he would find a way to make me fabulously wealthy and well known all over the continent. He hired some young inventor looking to make quick cash to devise any kind of revolutionary device, and a year later, on my seventeenth birthday, the boy produced a new hedge-sculpting tool unlike anything the gardening industry had ever seen. Zillion slapped my name on it, and I made enough from it to live comfortably ever since."

"So… It's all a farce. You made your money by lying, and… Zillion helped you." She pressed her face into her hands, burying a frustrated scream. "But what the fu– I mean, what does this have to do with the stolen Sun Stone?"

Now it was Backlot's turn to look confused. "_Stolen_? The Sun Stone has been _stolen_? What are you talking about?"

"Someone stole the Sun Stone from the Bourgeoir family's vault! It's been all over the news, Mr. Backlot! You couldn't have missed it!"

"Oh, _no_…" Backlot sank like a stone onto a plush velvet couch standing against the hallway's creamy baroque-patterned wallpaper. "Stolen…"

Dawn crossed her arms over her nearly naked chest. She was beginning to miss her puffy red coat, just like Barry had said she would. "So you didn't know about it… at _all_? Zillion never told you?"

Backlot sighed and looked up at her through his gold-rimmed glasses, his small dark eyes filled with something like defeat. "Miss Jenness… I actually _do_ have the Sun Stone."

"So you _did_ take it!" She glared at him, not knowing whether she should press for more information or arrest him on the spot. She decided to go for the former – after all, she still hadn't finished Jenny's task. "Why didn't you say so before?"

"Because I didn't _take_ it! It was _given_ to me!"

"Wait… Zillion gave you the Sun Stone? Why would he do that, if he loves it so much?"

Backlot cowered beneath her fierce stare. "Well, he said that he wanted me to keep it safe for awhile. He told me that he'd be dealing with some shady characters this week, so he wanted it out of his house."

"Shady characters…"

"So, you see, I haven't done anything wrong!" His voice rose hysterically. "Don't bring me to Jenny Starr! I know she's looking for me! I know it–"

Dawn shushed him with a dismissive wave of her hand. She had many more questions, but one struck her as especially important. "If Zillion wanted you to keep the Sun Stone safe, then why did you use it to top your fountain?" she asked, remembering the photo contained in Jenny's case file. "Wouldn't that make it easier to find? And why did you take it down? I don't _understand_!"

Mr. Backlot's face turned bright red at this. "Now, see here, Miss Jenness–" He stood up and pointed a threatening fat finger at her. "I am a respectable man! I haven't done anything wrong, and I refuse to be questioned any further on this Sun Stone business! My cousin has the right to his privacy, and so do I!"

Dawn bristled. She wasn't going to back down from this bumbling little man, no matter how wealthy he was. "Mr. Backlot, I'm merely trying to conduct an investigation. Don't take it personally… unless, of course, you _have_ done something wrong."

Backlot's eyes turned cold. "You are wasting my time, Detective. I need to get back to my party. This little distraction of yours has made me look like a bad host, and I won't have that." He turned on his heel to leave, but Dawn reached for the sleeve of his plum tuxedo and pulled him back.

"How rude–"

"Mr. Backlot. I have just one more question for you."

He turned towards her with a harrumph, his thick peppery eyebrows narrowed.

"You've forgotten about Peachy… haven't you?"

_Got you._

Backlot's face went from red to purple, which clashed with his suit. "Fine. Fine." He pushed her insistent hand from his sleeve, and Dawn knew that he probably wouldn't ever invite her to a party again. "What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to tell me the truth," she responded quietly. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

He sighed. "Fine. Come into my office and we'll talk."

The hallway cop reappeared in the curtains across the hall, unseen by Backlot. He looked over the situation, nodded at Dawn, and then vanished once more.

_At least Jenny will know where I am,_ Dawn thought. _In case something happens._

She didn't feel at all reassured as Backlot reached up and flicked a hidden switch in the ornate wooden doors, causing them to slowly and silently open in a rather ominous manner. He beckoned her forward, and then–

There was an audible whirring coming from inside the doors, as if Backlot had turned on some complex machine, and then, with a crisp click, the doors swung wide open.

And there, cast in the shadows and gloom of the dark, high-ceilinged office, was Cyrus Schemmel.

Dawn didn't even bother turning around as she heard the doors swing shut with a loud boom. She'd gradually realized that Backlot would trick her. Or, at least, _want_ to trick her. He had been an open book, what with his nervousness and refusal to answer all of her questions.

Jenny had told her before that Backlot and Cyrus were in cahoots. Now Dawn had to figure out why, and it looked like she was getting close.

She just hoped that Commander Starr knew what she was doing.

In the back of her mind she wondered where Barry was. She knew that the hope of him having gotten back into the company car and escaped this mess altogether was a highly unrealistic one. Instead, she hoped that he would be at least safe.

"Dawn Jenness." Cyrus rounded the desk, his droning voice settling uncomfortably in her ears.

In response, she reached down to pull off her heels, never taking her eyes off of his face. If there was going to be a fight, or a chase, or anything, really, she wanted those monstrosities off of her feet and out of sight. As they came off, she sighed in relief. Something nice _had_ happened to her in the past few hours after all.

"You know, I've heard a lot about you." It wasn't an invitation for conversation. The leader of Team Galactic sounded oddly bored, as if joining forces with billionaires for mysterious reasons and kidnapping detectives in creepy dark rooms were perfectly routine activities for him.

"You bested one of my commanders."

"Yes," she replied simply. She didn't want to sound too cocky or unsure. She didn't know much about Cyrus, but from what she had heard, he had many more screws loose than she had recently assumed Officer Jenny did.

"Oh, well." He shrugged, utterly uncaring that his lackey had been defeated and imprisoned. "I _would_ congratulate you, but Mars was incompetent from the start. Besting her wouldn't take much talent from anyone."

Dawn just stared at him, wondering what he was getting at.

"But defeating _me_! That would be an entirely different matter!" For the first time since she'd been locked in the office, Cyrus rapidly changed from an uninterested crime boss to a maniacal crime boss. The transformation was sudden, and therefore, mildly terrifying. His sunken eyes shone with a deranged light that perfectly confirmed her suppositions about his current mental state.

She continued to stare. "You. Want me. To battle you."

"Yes!" He licked his lips with anticipation.

_Ew. Gross._

"And _what_ exactly would that accomplish?"

"You're looking for this, aren't you?" Cyrus reached behind himself to press some sort of button hidden in Backlot's desk. A curtain fell open beside a plum-colored wing-backed chair, and Dawn's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

"The Sun Stone," she breathed. And then–

"Wait. What. How."

"How much do you know about Sun Stones, Detective?" In one fluid motion, Cyrus hopped up onto the desk and sat there, hands folded as primly as a schoolgirl's in his lap. The entire picture would've been almost comical, if not for the fact that she was trapped in a dark room with a madman.

"They occur in nature. They help to evolve certain Pokémon." Dawn drew in a breath. "They also reportedly have properties that can heal peop– I mean, Pokémon," she hastily amended.

He leaned forward, his sunken eyes flashing eerily in the moonlight streaming through the high arched windows. "You are not wrong, but you've left out one last _very_ important detail."

"And what's that?" She was getting impatient.

"Sun Stones _attract_ Pokémon. Something about their natures, but no one knows quite what that is… Well, the science doesn't matter. But oh, the _opportunities_! Can you imagine? The sheer power that an object like this could give its owner!" Cyrus jumped from the desk, his fists clenched and his eyes cast skyward.

He came back down to Earth and gave her a cold stare. "And you, you little, insignificant _girl_! You're only interested in using that boundless power to heal your sister! What a terrible waste–"

Before Cyrus even realized what was coming, Dawn punched him square on the jaw.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, OW!" she muttered as she flapped her hand wildly in an ill attempt to alleviate the pain.

Meanwhile, Cyrus was glaring at her, and the expression looked alien on his emotionless, almost robotic, face.

"You're going to pay for that one, Jenness!" he spat.

"Well, you told me that you wanted a fight! So let's go!" She lightly laid a hand atop the silken folds of her full skirt, feeling more ready for this than anything else that she'd ever done. "And after we're done, and you're in handcuffs, you're going to explain to me what the _hell_ is going on! Deal?"

Cyrus's eyes flashed, and he grinned widely. There was nothing nice about that grin. He looked like he was ready to bite her face off with it.

"Deal!"

Quick as lightning, they both reached for Poké Balls – Cyrus pulled one from Backlot's antique desk, and Dawn drew aside the outer layer of her skirt to reveal its special inner pocket. The Galactic Boss and Pokémon League Champion-turned-detective stared each other down, each waiting for the other to make the first move…


End file.
